The woman mumbled the name "Seth Hart" in her delirium, and Solo shuddered violently as fragments of relevant history flooded his mind.
Was this the same Seth Hart who nearly became Darth Zannah's apprentice a thousand years ago?
He had once been Master Obal's Jedi Padawan. After encountering Darth Zannah, not only was he spared execution, but he was also offered the chance to become her apprentice.
Seth was exceptionally intelligent and had deduced early on that Darth Bane had unlocked the secret of immortality through the Andeddu Holocron.
During Zannah's plot to assassinate Bane, Seth stole the holocron and then vanished completely from history.
The knowledge recorded within the Andeddu Holocron was precisely what Solo had glimpsed through the manifestation of Sith Lord Aroggant during the Viciate Era—the ability to transfer consciousness.
According to surviving records, Seth subsequently began creating clones of himself. Every thirty years, he transferred his consciousness into a new body, achieving a form of immortality that allowed him to survive for a thousand years.
For a millennium, he had amassed the knowledge of all Force-sensitives in the galaxy. No one knew if he still existed.
Now, Solo had not only encountered him but had also become his enemy.
"Does he use this name in the mortal world?" Solo pressed, his voice tightening involuntarily.
If the Jedi knew this name, they couldn't possibly have missed his traces for a millennium.
"He... he's just called that," Rosamond stammered, her gaze unfocused. "Seven hundred years ago... we... founded the company..."
"Has no one ever investigated him?"
"Many... investigated... and died." Her head nodded faintly. "There was one... who didn't fight... and served him instead."
Is that the traitor?
Solo's heart tightened. "Who?"
"I don't know..." Her consciousness was fading, the drug's euphoria completely dominating her mind.
"Where is Seth Hart?" Solo intensified his use of the Force, his voice carrying an oppressive weight.
"Royce... Royce VI," she murmured, her hazy gaze fixed on Solo. She reached out, wanting to touch him. "You... also want... to caress me... touch me..."
Solo stopped questioning her. He gently touched her forehead, using the Force to instantly render her unconscious.
The drug would naturally metabolize in her body. What he needed to do now was erase all her memories of this interrogation and the drug's effects.
Manipulating a mind that offered no resistance was effortless for him. Years of training had honed his mastery of Mental Force techniques.
He carefully helped the woman out of her sweat-stained dress, admiring her body. Even the drug-induced odor couldn't diminish her beauty.
"This bastard collects more than just Sith artifacts," Solo muttered. Using Telekinesis, he lifted her onto the bed, covered her with a blanket, and checked her pulse. Confirming that the drug merely slowed it slightly, he turned to the desk.
He connected his data pad to Rosamond's system and began copying all the data, hoping it might contain more clues about Set.
After the transfer completed, Solo meticulously searched every corner of the room, ensuring he left no trace.
He approached the window, pressed a button to open a narrow gap, and confirmed the blind spot of the courtyard's camera. With a leap, he landed steadily on the lawn.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he used Telekinesis to close the third-floor window before melting into the garden's shadows and heading toward the hangar.
He knew that Sed Hart was currently in a weakened state, making this the best opportunity to kill him. But taking him down alone was impossible; Set's millennia of accumulation were simply too formidable.
He needed allies: a Matukai, and a reliable squad of bounty hunters.
The Star Falcon's hyperspace drive was highly efficient. The tracking program showed Sheldon's ship was docked at Lylos. Solo set the course for Lylos, and the ship jumped into hyperspace.
Lylos, the homeworld of the Twi'leks, was a barren, rocky planet with poor soil.
The Twi'leks had traditionally been hunters rather than farmers, and their women were universally attractive to other races.
The planet was also the primary source of ryl, a narcotic mineral that had been banned a century earlier. However, pharmaceutical companies controlled by the Neimoidians still produced a weakened version of the painkiller derived from it, which Solo had used to interrogate Rosamond.
Sheldon's signal originated from Lossem City, a small town known for the nearby ryl mines.
Lylos's defenses were extremely weak. A single dreadnought orbited the planet, while the surface had long been a haven for slave traders, a situation even the Jedi had struggled to fully address.
"Ahsoka, want to go for a walk together?" Solo asked.
"Master, I need to keep training!" Ahsoka insisted. "We're going to find that Sith, right?"
"Ah, Ahsoka, victory and defeat are part of every soldier's life," Solo consoled her. "But we'll unravel this knot!"
He landed the ship in a dilapidated hangar, declined the locals' offer to buy it, locked the ship and switched it to defense mode, then ventured into town alone.
Lossem City wasn't wealthy. Simple flying boats sped along the wide streets, and most pedestrians were tall, muscular miners.
Solo blended into the crowd, using the Force to eavesdrop on conversations. He quickly picked up key information: a heavily tattooed, blonde, burly man had been drinking heavily at Zero's bar in the outskirts for nearly a week. During that time, he'd gotten into a brawl with another group, trashed the bar, and even sparked a full-blown fight.
Only a week and a half had passed since the defeat on Zhai Planet. It made sense that Sheldon, traveling on a ship with an old hyperspace drive, would take so long to arrive.
But the tattoos... did they mean he'd been granted the title of Matukada warrior?
Without wasting any more time, Solo rented a flying boat and hurried to the outskirts.
The scene outside the bar made his pupils constrict. Several bodies lay scattered across the ground—throats slit, arms hacked off, one even split in two. Their equipment showed they were a mixed group of pirates and bounty hunters.
"Was that the Golden-Haired Devil again?"
"How many times is this now? I heard a wealthy man put a bounty on him, but... provoking the Matukai? That's just insane."
"The Matukai? Are they like the Jedi?"
"Exactly, except instead of lightsabers, they use war pikes."
Outside the bar, the owner hovered, looking sorrowful and dejected, as people dispersed after examining the corpses.
"Boss, looks like you've got some trouble here!" Solo approached and greeted the owner.
"Ugh, that Hutt!" the owner grumbled angrily. "Everything was fine when that blonde guy came in, but then another one flew in and they got into a fight, trashing the place. After the second one left, the first one got a tattoo—and then drank here for three days straight! He polished off all my stock! I heard someone put a bounty on him. I want to put a bounty on him too! Just so someone will throw him out of my bar!"
"It sounds like he's really been bothering you," Solo said. "I'll take care of this."
"Uh... you won't end up as another corpse I have to drag out of there later, will you?"
"If we can't come to an agreement, I'll personally escort him out." Solo drew his lightsaber, twirled it experimentally, and strode into the bar, leaving the Toydarian behind.
The bar was in utter disarray. Tables and chairs were overturned, glass shards from broken bottles littered the floor, and the air reeked of a nauseating mixture of alcohol and blood.
At the bar, Sheldon slumped over, his messy blonde hair framing a Matukada tattoo that stood out starkly in the dim lighting. Dried blood stained his clothes, and a small mountain of empty bottles lay beside his hand.
Hearing footsteps, he snapped his head up, his bloodshot eyes narrowing warily as his hand instinctively moved to his waist—only to find it empty. His war pike had been shattered during the battle on Zhai Planet.
"It's you," Sheldon rasped, his voice thick with alcohol. "The Master... he's dead."
"I know," Solo said, taking a seat across from him and pouring himself an unopened bottle of Corellian Whiskey. "We'll avenge him."
Sheldon slammed his hand on the table, sending the empty bottles clattering to the floor. "Avenge him? We can't even touch his little finger! That immortal monster!"
"His name is Seth Hart," Solo said calmly. "We've located him on Royce VII. I remember you can contact the Mandalore Squad. With their firepower, we won't lose this time."
Sheldon froze, a flicker of hope flashing in his bloodshot eyes before being swallowed by despair. "We still can't beat him."
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